Anya watched Giles as he sipped his tequila-enhanced beer. Her mind was still unable to quite believe that she was sitting on a beige and chocolate-brown woven plastic chair that certainly hadn't done anything to earn Paris its reputation as one of the most stylish cities in the world. Just a few yards around the corner, Les Halles still bustled with life even as dusk fell, but here there were only café bars and a few smaller specialist shops, like the one opposite that sold heavy, thick-soled boots that Spike would probably have coveted. A gust of wind made her grab at the hem of her short, flowing dress, as she'd had to do at intervals throughout the day.

Giles noticed immediately and rose to his feet, offering to swap seats, and Anya had to smile. It seemed as if the Englishman had been attentive to her smallest movements and gestures in a way that Xander never had been. To be fair, she knew that Giles could, at times, be completely oblivious to what happened around him, especially when books, prophecies or duty were involved. The care with which he was treating her wasn't something she would expect to be the norm, if Giles had still been living in Sunnydale. Neither was it the nervous twittering of acquaintances who were afraid that she would break and who, therefore, treated the object of their pity like a delicate ornament. His attentiveness was simply a result of wanting to do whatever he could to see that the woman he was escorting enjoyed herself. That was why Anya found these gestures so easy to accept.

She stood and placed her own half pint glass where Giles' larger one had rested, smoothing the aquamarine fabric of the dress's skirt down to her knees as she sat once more. "I'm afraid when I did my packing, I was thinking of Mexican beaches and having something that would look pretty and not clash if Xander bought me any of that silver jewellery, rather than practicality." She took a long sip of her beer, which was a little dark compared with most American beers but cool and refreshing with a slightly different taste, which may have come from the brew or from the tequila. "And instead I'm sitting in Paris, France, drinking a beer called Desperados."

"There were a number of others you could have chosen," Giles pointed out with that dry tone of his that meant he had found her comment amusing.

Anya glanced at the extensive drinks menu offered by the cafe and shrugged. "It sounded interesting, and I'm not going to spend the rest of my life refusing to do things in case they remind me of Xander. I wasted three years on him. I won't waste any more." Her voice had only the slightest quiver.

"How are your feet, now?" the watcher asked, giving her the perfect change of conversation.

She eased her bare feet from her white espadrilles and wiggled them slightly, testing for aches and pains, though in truth simply taking her weight off them for a few minutes after their meanderings around the city had made them feel much better. "Not so bad," she told him.

"Perhaps after we finish these, we should keep an eye open for a restaurant or we could head back to the hotel... if you prefer? You could change if you wanted... though you do look very pretty in that dress." The compliment came out at least twice as quickly as the rest of Giles' words and he ducked his head down immediately toward his beer, though Anya noticed that his eyes skimmed over the dress from its pale shoulder straps and fitted bodice to the far brighter hem of its tie-dyed skirt.

"There used to be a quiet little restaurant between here and the river. It's been a few years since I was last there, so it might have closed by now or changed hands..." She gave him a shy subdued smile that was enough to quell the colour that had rushed to his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect." He waited until Anya's glass was empty, drained his own and once more offered her his arm as she directed them through the Paris streets.

Two hours later they both leaned back, replete from a rich meal, and savoured the coffees that constituted the final course. There were only a few other couples in the quiet restaurant, its location, tucked away in a back street, making it less popular than its cuisine deserved. It had been just as she remembered it, down to the musician tucked away in a corner, providing unobtrusive background music, except that the owner was considerably greyer and a few pounds heavier. Surprisingly, he had remembered her, even asking after Mademoiselle Hallie, and Anya realised that she had missed those little trips that her demon powers had allowed her and she found her mind drifting again to the offer that D'Hoffryn had made her.

"Centime for your thoughts?" Giles prompted gently.

"D'Hoffryn offered to give me back my powers..." Anya looked him in the eye expecting to find surprise or condemnation, but the only expression she could read was reassurance. "Aren't you going to ask me if I accepted? Don't you want to know why?"

"If you had accepted, then I suspect Xander would currently have more pressing problems than getting his car out of the impound lot, and, when you want to tell me why, I'm sure you will."

Anya sighed and then gave another smile that couldn't quite chase the sadness from her eyes. She wanted to tell him that he was the reason she had chosen to retain her humanity. She wanted to say that it was the thought that perhaps at some point in the future, they might be able to find out if the glittering promise they had found under the influence of Willow's spell had the sheen of gold or was nothing more than iron pyrites. She wanted to tell him, but she wasn't ready, yet, and she didn't know when the time might come that she was prepared to take another risk. It wouldn't be fair to keep Giles waiting for something that might never come. After all, he lived in England now and Sunnydale was a world away. Paris was just a stolen moment and when it was over she would be returning to California.

As she tried to make up her mind, the owner returned to their table to talk to her, telling her in rapid French that she needed only to let him know if they wanted a refill on their coffees, and asking if she had any requests she would like played. Giles arched an eyebrow in her direction, waiting to see if her familiarity with the city and the language extended to being able to choose a French song.

Anya leaned toward the man and whispered in his ear, keeping her voice too low for Giles to make out. The genial Gaul glanced over at Giles and gave a smile that came close to being a smirk before he shuffled over to the corner of the room where the musician was playing. He spoke briefly to the guitarist as the song he was singing came to an end. The man nodded and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans before resting his guitar in a stand by the side of the high stool where he had been sitting and heading for the bar.

The owner cleared his throat loudly to gain attention before he made an announcement first in English and then in French. "Mademoiselle Anya has requested that her friend should be allowed to sing for us." Giles looked thunderstruck and then embarrassed. "I am sure that, like us, he will be unable to deny the request of such a beautiful lady."

Anya fixed him with what Xander had called her puppy dog eyes and noted that he seemed to acquiesce immediately, even though he had seemed quite immune in his earlier days as her employer.

The watcher shifted nervously as he took his seat, checking the tuning on the guitar and finding a comfortable position. Nevertheless, as soon as he began to sing, his voice carried across the room and it seemed to Anya that his words coiled around her like rich, sinuous strands of silk. In the dimly lit interior of the restaurant, she should have been unable to tell when his gaze fell on her, but the words that he sang made it clear that the piece had been chosen with her in mind, and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end as he sang of allowing his love her freedom while he waited and simply watched. Everything that she had resolved would be unfair of her to ask, he offered up freely as if he had known of her dilemma. He made the gift in such a way that, until she felt ready to take the next step, they could both pretend that his choice was based on nothing more than the colour of her dress.

Anya took his promise and clutched it close. In the dark nights when she returned to America alone, she knew that it would give her the strength she needed to keep going. When he returned to the table, they would wear the guise of friends, but though neither was yet ready to state it openly, both now knew that feelings deeper than friendship waited to be explored.

Bird of Paradise by Snowy White

Saw you flying by
Flash of Turquoise Blue
I just had to try
To keep your life in view

My bird of paradise
Sweet bird of paradise

Wish that I could fly
I'd be beside you now
But I can only sigh
And watch you circle round

My bird of paradise
Sweet bird of paradise
My bird of paradise
Sweet bird of paradise
My bird of paradise

So you fly away
When will you come again
So I can watch you play
In the pouring rain

My bird of paradise
Sweet bird of paradise
My bird of paradise
Sweet bird of paradise
My bird of paradise